Page 17 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
The easiest choice is to turn my back on Robert, as he once did to me. But revenge, rather than tasting sweet, seems to leave a sour taste in my mouth now. Will he be understanding about the deception? Or will he curse me? But the worst dagger to my heart would be losing my son. I fear he will see it as a betrayal and never forgive me. I would not, could not blame him.
Your desperate granddaughter,
Annis
Annis crawled into bed next to her aunt. “Are ye awake, Aunt?”
“How can I sleep with ye climbing in and out of bed? Ye might as well talk about it, or we’ll never get any rest.”
“Do ye agree with Uncle?” she asked, turning to her side and resting her head on her hands. “Should I tell Fin?”
“That’s no’ for me to decide.” Her aunt also rolled to the side. She reached out and placed a palm along Annis’s cheek. “But I wonder how good it would feel to unload yerself of such a burden.”
Annis blinked back a tear and nodded. “When he said the words ‘my son,’ it was such a blow. I wanted to scream. How dare he raise a son when Fin grew up without a father. But he didn’t ken, and that was my fault.”
“Do ye regret no’ telling him?”
She shook her head. “Nay, if I had, he might have denied his father, then resented me when his life didn’t work out as he had planned. Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, because of me, because of Fin, would have been a worse fate.”
“Niece, ye’re a good, intelligent lass. Ye’ve got time now to think on it. Ye’ll make the right decision, whatever it is.” Then she rolled onto her back, tucked the blanket under her chin. “But remember, ye’ve raised Fin to be honest in his words and thoughts.” She was soon snoring softly.
Annis lay awake, listening to the soft snuffle and pondering her aunt’s words. She would have a month or so with no responsibility, nothing to worry her mind except this problem. Aunt Sorcha was right. She would make a decision and hope her grandmother responded before she left Dunderave.
With any luck, Rabbie would have gone back to England by the time she returned.
CHAPTER 7
Books and Bits, Glasgow
Robert stepped into the shop and took in a deep breath. He loved the smell of books, had surrounded himself with the aroma since he’d been a young boy. Always had his nose in a book. He had never cared for hunting, though it was hypocritical. He enjoyed meat, but he didn’t want to be responsible for killing the beast who fed him. Fox hunting seemed abhorrent to him. He loved horses and was an expert equestrian. Boxing was the only true physical sport he enjoyed and excelled at.
But books were his friends; his world revolved around them. As a barrister, he studied the points of law, previous verdicts, philosophy. Any wonder which crossed his mind, or question which posed a conundrum, could be found in a tome. He liked the idea that any problem could be solved if you located the correct text. So, coming to Books and Bits the past few days had greatly improved his mood.
He’d also come up with a clever plan for part of his wooing scheme. Robert used to torture Annis with ridiculously banal jokes to make her laugh. The previous evening, he had written an assortment of horrid puns and jests on slips of paper. He would place them inside books on the shelves here at the shop. If he let Mrs. Douglas in on the secret, she could help guide Annis to them. He pulled out the two he’d brought today:
Have you heard about the giant who cast up his accounts?
It’s all over town.
I don’t trust stairs. They’re always up to something.
“There you are.” Mrs. Douglas bustled up, a tea tray in her hands. “Didn’t ken if ye’d finally given up.”
Robert tucked the slips of paper back in the pocket of his waistcoat. The first two days, Mrs. Douglas had ignored him, responding only when he spoke first. He had occupied himself with perusing the shelves, finding a text he’d been searching for in London. Yesterday, he had carried in a shipment and helped her stock the shelves. They had made small talk, and he had said he’d see her on the morrow. She hadn’t disagreed.
Progress.
“How could I be tired of such lovely company?”
She flashed him her dimples as she set the tray down and raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, please. Black.” He sat on a stool across from her, flipping through the week’s chosen highlights: Travels in France by Arthur Young, the well-known traveler and agriculturalist. “I told you I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”
“What one says is no’ always what one does,” she quipped. “Time will tell.”
Two weeks later, Mrs. Douglas—Aileen, she’d asked him to call her—looked up from her cleaning. He had put back the books returned by borrowers and was standing in front of the shelves of sweets, hands on his hips, deciding whether to have a lemon drop and daydream of Annis. They had worked out a satisfactory routine after Robert had made it clear he would be at the shop every day. He helped with whatever tasks she needed in the morning. In the afternoons, he indulged in his favorite pastime, studying the law and placing another riddle in an obscure book, and they shared tea.
Mrs. Douglas had devised a system of pulling out the spine of the books with the slips of paper, so they would stick out from the rest. Just enough to draw attention to Annis’s keen eye.
